Candyland
by Katie Coleman
Summary: Sam and Dean find themselves "stuck" in a colourful, ever-moving world outside the realms of possibility on Earth. As they struggle to a find an out, they worm themselves into their imaginations - dangerous places where only fear is guaranteed  4-part


Hey guys, just making a quick reappearance with this one. It's been in the works for many months now, I've just been waiting to find the time to sit down and write it – I guess that's what two months worth of holidays is really for! Anyway, I will be releasing this one in 'parts' which I suppose is my equivalent to chapters – of which there are four. The entire story is already mapped out, which makes it pretty easy for me to write now But that's enough of my random chatting – let's get down to it, shall we?

Rating: G

Genre: Mystery/Horror/Supernatural/Family/General

Characters in this part: Dean, Sam, Jessica.

Set: mid-season four?

Words in this part: 1,620

**Candyland: Part One of Four. **

Dt—dt—dt—dt.

Muddy tears leaked from the sky, splattering against the motel room's window with a quiet thud. A breeze begged its way into the room through invisible cracks in the doorframe and danced in the warm, dry air inside. Behind closed eyelids, Sam's dreams flickered in time with the stuttering of the dusty heater, kicking on through the night from its honorable place between the two double beds in the center of the room.

His muscles twitched from time to time as he slept, though his expression was one of peace. Just as the digital clock that flowed from the bedside table tipped twelve-thirteen AM, the heater's stuttering dipped to a low growl, and it shuddered into a long, probably well deserved retirement. Sam's eyebrow quirked at the noise, and he drowsily peeled his eye open. Blinking away sleep, he glanced over at the dead heater, almost offended. Out of habit, his eyes then flickered up to his brother's empty bed. The alarm clock splashed an obnoxious, boasting reminder of just how early it was across his pale skin, and he made a visible effort not to groan.

"Dean?" he asked the night quietly as his eyes adjusted and focused on the mess of unoccupied blankets. In all of his life, Sam had never seen Dean tuck in a single sheet – not that a quarter past twelve in the morning was probably an appropriate time to make the bed. "Dean?" Just as Sam's voice was worriedly pronouncing the question mark at the end of his brother's name, he slunk almost dutifully from his warm cocoon of scratchy blankets, brow furrowing as his eyes skimmed the dark room.

Rising from his bed completely, Sam padded over to the closed bathroom door and knocked gently.

"Dean?"

He listened for signs of life inside. When no sign came, Sam jimmied the handle and nudged the door open, reaching his hand around the door frame quickly to flick the light on.

When the small globe finally stammered into action, the yellow light it that shed onto the white tiles contrasted the harsh pale skin of the heap that lay huddled against the wall in front of him.

"Dean," Sam repeated his brother's name, as though half of him didn't believe it were him. His knees hit the cold tile floor beside Dean within seconds. "What happened?"

"Had'ta change m'bandages..." Dean croaked breathily, eyes slipping closed as he tried to shift his position on the floor.

Sam's expression was laced with panic as the ruby red blood drizzling from Dean's forearm caught his eye, "Hang on." He hated how desperate his own voice sounded.

He pried the clean bandages, though they were now dampened with sweat, from his brother's curled fist gently. Dean huddled with his knees drawn up protectively to his chin, so Sam shifted closer on the floor. Any other person, he knew, Dean would have shied away nervously, but now he let his knees slide flat against the ground. Sam blinked back panicked tears when he surveyed the full extent of his brother's injuries, and gently pushed his hand against the place on Dean's abdomen were the sword had stabbed through. Though protected by bandage and stitches, it was soggy with blood. Dean winced and involuntarily pushed himself backward against the tiles.

"Gnomes," Sam cursed the violent creatures as he drew his bloodied hand away from the hole they had made in his brother. "Alright," he said, more to soothe Dean than anything. "It's not that bad."

It was.

He grabbed a thick, white towel from the rack behind him. Housekeeping wouldn't be impressed – not once could a hotel issue red towels so that no one would notice when they bled all over them. Turning back to Dean, he rolled the towel into a cylinder. Sam wiped the saturated bandage from his brother's stomach, and quickly forced the towel against it. Watching it turn red, he instructed Dean to "hold it there." Dean's weak fingertips blindly found the towel as Sam clambered to his feet and hurried back into the main room.

Somewhere in his duffel were Dean's pills – kept under lock and key for Sam's fear of Dean deliriously overdosing himself. He ruffled through it for a moment, and, eventually finding the yellow bottle, he grabbed it quickly, and...

**Manlo Park, Palo Alto**

"Son, you can't be out here."

An odd sense of familiarity caught up with Sam as he let his eyes wonder over the green clearing. There was something in his memory about the cold air that rushed past his face and made his cheeks burn red. In the distance, he could hear the laugher of children playing.

"Son?" a gruff voice asked him.

Adrenalin bolted through Sam's body. "Sorry?" he asked quickly, coming back to focus on the short, uniformed man that stood at his side, and looked down at him with surprise.

"Mayor's got it roped off," he said impatiently, motioning toward the orange bunting tape on either side of where they stood.

"Right," Sam scrambled. "Uh - sorry…"

The straight faced police officer nodded at him, and began to plod away. Hesitantly, Sam took a few steps and caught him by the shoulder. Disgruntled, the officer turned to face him again.

" I was, uh, looking for my brother." Sam smiled, collecting himself.

"Well, why don't you try the jumble gym? Thing's so bid, I bet any kid could get lost on it."

"Yeah, thanks. I will," he smiles half-heartedly. "Hey, uh, where are we, exactly?"

The officer shot him a look of great, eyebrow-creased concern. "Are you drunk, son?" he asked, pulling out a notepad.

"No, officer," Sam told him quickly with a pleading smile. "Lost. Could you tell me the quickest route to the highway?"

The police officer considered him for a moment. He apparently agreed that Sam was not in fact drunk, and pointed toward the road. "Take a right, and follow it straight past the college up there. Keep drivin' and you'll reach route 280."

"College?"

"Yeah, son. Don't you know what town you're in?"

Sam pulled closed the door behind him gently, and dropped his keys into the bowl beside the door. He glanced wide-eyed around the apartment, sickness swelling in his stomach.

"Hey, Sam,"

And then it's gone.

"Jess..."

She beamed at him, "How was your day?"

Sam thought about this for only a second, then replied, "Weird."

"Well," she walked up to him and rested her hands on his shirt. "I talked to your professor today, and just between you and me, you pretty much aced that essay."

"Uh, essay?" he raised an eyebrow, unable to say much more.

Concern flickered across her eyes. "Yeah, you know, your ethics paper? It's all you've been able to think about for weeks..."

Sam doesn't miss a beat, and plasters on a smile, "Oh, right. Thanks,"

"Anyway," Jess' eyes light up further. If that was even possible. "I made cookies."

Sam glanced down at his plate. A cookie sat precariously on it, his teeth marks already dug into the side.

"They okay?" Jess asked sweetly.

"... Perfect." Sam smiled slowly. Too perfect, perhaps.

"Well, anyway, Mom's having a cook up at home this weekend – I promised her we'd be there..." she apologized with her eyes. "I haven't seen her since last Christmas, and well – "

"Jess," Sam interrupted. "It's fine."

She smiled appreciatively at him. "You're the best."

Their stare is interrupted by the shrill sound of the phone. He stares at it, and remembers. Remembers sitting here, the cookies, everything. It's 2005, and today is the day that Jessica gets the phone call that her mother's died. He slammed his hand down on the receiver just as Jess went to answer it. She looked up at him, startled.

He shrugged lamely, "Telemarketers."

She watched him carefully for a moment, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Sam wiped his hand on the blue serviette that rested on his plate beside the cookie. "Yeah, I'm – "

The world was moving under his feet as nausea crept back up to say hello.

"Sam?"

"I just… think I'm going to go lie down. I'm fine, just a bit dizzy…" he struggled out.

And then he was standing on a boat.

**Cumberland Island, Georgia**

A crisp breeze hit him, cleared his head. The nausea seeped away, and Sam let the coolness of the air coat his skin and evaporate the perspiration dripping down his face. He opened his eyes, and his brother was sitting on a bench a few steps away.

"Dean?" he asked after a moment's hesitation. "You're okay?"

"Peachy,"

"Where are we?"

"Cumberland, Georgia," he waited a few seconds, watching his kid brother's face settle on confusion. "Remember, you were about… thirteen years old? We were on 'vacation' while Dad was hunting a lake monster up here. I took you down here one afternoon –"

"My trip to the beach…" Sam smiled appreciatively. He dug into his pocket and pulled out some sharp looking shells. "We collected shells."

Dean took a deep breath of the fresh air as the boat dipped in the water. "It's… nice."

Sam quirked his eyebrow. "Angels?" he asked, looking out over the water.

Dean considered it. "I don't know; it's not exactly their MO. Trickster, maybe…" he trailed off. "Man, I swear, I can't even take a night off without that guy wrecking it."

"Tell me about it," Sam sighed. "Have you heard from Cas?"

"You kidding? Cell phone's useless."

"Great, so what are we? Stuck in some kind of broken time loop?"

"Looks like."

Dean squinted his eyes closed and rubbed his temple.

"Dean, you okay?"

And then Sam's standing on the boat alone.


End file.
